


Hot Like the Fourth of July

by fruitstripegum



Series: For One Night and the Rest of Them [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, F/F, Fingering, Fourth of July, M/M, running into an ex, talk of past cheating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-03
Updated: 2015-07-03
Packaged: 2018-04-07 12:30:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4263330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fruitstripegum/pseuds/fruitstripegum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takes place 8 months after events in Bite the (metaphorical) Bullet. The Stilinski's throw a 4th of July party and an unwanted guest shows up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hot Like the Fourth of July

**Author's Note:**

> Once more, I really do like Parrish on the show, but I also apparently like writing him as a cocky asshole? 
> 
> The shorts Stiles is wearing in this are here: http://www.chubbiesshorts.com/collections/the-americans/products/mericas
> 
> (You can totally see Stiles wearing those just for shits and giggles, right?)
> 
> Again, un-beta'd but I did a read through and self-beta'd. Let me know if you catch any mistakes!
> 
> Kudos and comments are appreciated!

“Did you grab the brats?” The Sheriff calls out from the backyard where he’s stoking charcoal briquettes to peak heat on the grill.

 

Stiles and Derek have just arrived. There’s about an hour until the party really starts up and Stiles has his hands full of decorations while Derek plays the how-many-bags-can-I-carry-from-the-car-at-once game with the groceries they’ve brought.

 

“Yes sir!” Derek yells back through the open kitchen door.

 

“How many times have I told you to call me ‘John,’ son?” Derek can here the laugh in the Sheriff’s voice, can imagine him shaking his head mirthfully on the patio.

 

It’s been eight crazy, wonderful months since he met Stiles at the Jungle. His life had changed dramatically after that night – Stiles had come into his life like a tornado of life and happiness. He’d stayed for brunch – Derek had watched him sleep for hours before drifting off himself, he was so amazed at how easily Stiles fit in his bed, in his life. They had spent the day playing twenty-one questions and learning everything there was to learn about each other. They’d met each other’s families soon after and Laura had worn a self-satisfied smirk the entire way through dinner. She took full claim to getting them together and wouldn’t hear a word against it, even though Danny was the one that introduced them.

 

This would be the third holiday they would be celebrating together with their families, after Christmas and New Years. The Sheriff had offered up his home (really, his grill and backyard) for Stiles’ ‘Best Fourth of July Since the Declaration was Signed’ party. Derek had laughed when he’d heard the unofficial title and helpfully informed Stiles that the Declaration wasn’t actually signed until the 7th that first year.

 

They set down their bags, Derek moving to put the cold items in the fridge and freezer as Stiles pulls out strings of star spangled garland, red, white, and blue rope lights, and pennants to hang on the eaves of the porch and around the fence line.

 

“You’re on grill duty with Pops,” Stiles reminds him with a kiss to the cheek before he flits off to the yard to decorate.

 

Derek starts chopping vegetables for kebabs and burger toppings and gets lost in the repetitive motion for a moment before it breaks when the front door opens.

 

“Hello?” Scott calls out, already walking through the house.

 

“Hey!” Derek calls back. “We’re back here!”

 

Scott walks into the kitchen, followed shortly by Allison and Lydia. Derek stops chopping and wipes his hands to shake Scott’s before he pulls both girls into a hug.

 

“It’s great to see you!” Derek tells them earnestly. “Stiles is in the back. He said that he wants the yard to look like a rave before night falls.”

 

Scott says ‘cool!’ at the same time the girls roll their eyes.

 

“I guess we should go help him?” Allison suggests to Scott.

 

Lydia stays inside as their friends head through the screen door, pulling out another cutting board from the cupboard and knife from the block. She grabs some of the veggies Derek hasn’t made it to yet and they work in companionable silence.

 

_Stiles had waited approximately a week and a half before arranging a meeting between Derek and Lydia._

_“I_ really _hope you don’t break up with me over this,” he’d murmured as they sat down at a table in the Thai restaurant Stiles loved._

_“Break up with you over Thai?” Derek had asked. “I love Thai!”_

_“No, break up with you over this,” a feminine voice had drawn his attention away from Stiles’ worried face and up to the beautiful redhead that was walking towards them before she sat down next to Stiles. “I’m Lydia, and I told him that blindsiding you wasn’t the right way to go about doing this.”_

_“And I told_ you _that he’s going to love you and after five minutes, the matter of just_ how _I introduced you two would be moot,” Stiles had pouted._

_After Derek worked his way through shock, embarrassment, and a bit of anger at Stiles for springing it on him, they’d had a pleasant dinner. Lydia wasn’t the cold-hearted villainess Derek had conjured in his mind when Jordan had told him he was leaving. She and Jordan had met at a women’s self defense class he’d been teaching and they’d gone on a few dates before she’d realized something was up._

_Jordan was being shifty at dinner at her place and Lydia had snooped through his phone when he’d stepped away to use the restroom. She found his text history with Derek, just ‘D’ in Jordan’s phone, and realized by the tone that they were in a relationship. Lydia, having been cheated on in the past, did not take well at all to finding out she was the other woman._

_She’d had all of his stuff ready to go by the time he got out of the bathroom and had blocked his number and un-enrolled from the self-defense class immediately before calling Stiles to bemoan the situation._

 

After that first stilted dinner, Derek and Lydia had become fast friends. He’d introduced her to Cora a month later, and they’d hit it off fantastically and been attached at the hip ever since. Derek had little room to talk, however, seeing as how Stiles officially moved into the loft with Derek less than two months after they’d met.

 

_He’d shown up one night with an overnight bag and Derek had presented him with a Tiffany blue box._

_“Jewelry?” Stiles had asked demurely. “You shouldn’t have!”_

_“I didn’t,” Derek admitted. “I didn’t have another small box, but what’s inside is shiny and silvery, so I thought it appropriate.”_

_Stiles opened the box’s lid to reveal a newly cut key._

_“You’re over here almost every night,” Derek explained, “and I love that_ so much _. I love watching you sleep, I love the way you stumble around in the mornings like a zombie before you’ve had your coffee, I love the way you’ve added life to the place with your knickknacks and your clothes in my laundry basket and your stupid t-rex coffee mug.”_

_Stiles had jumped into his arms, a talented feat as they were a match for height if not weight, and kissed him until they were both breathless, sweaty, and hard. Stiles had dropped to his knees after and blown Derek in the foyer._

 

More guests arrive in the next half hour: Scott’s mom (and John’s not-so-secret girlfriend), Danny and Ethan, Laura and Cora (who’d dragged Lydia away for ten minutes only to bring her back with her lipstick smeared a bit), Tara from the station and a few other deputies. Derek and the Sheriff take turns manning the grill, turning out burgers, brats, and kebabs to hungry guests. Music filters through the outdoor speakers, all Americana bands or songs with some theme on the holiday. Derek’s eyes follow Stiles as he plays the perfect host, grabbing fresh beers, keeping the chips and salsa bowls full, joking around with everyone as he goes by. He’d even designed custom koozies for the party that read ‘Stilinski 2015- a party you’ll only remember through pictures.’

 

The sun sets beautifully and Stiles’ goal has been met: the yard is lit up, well, like the fourth of July- Tiki torches, rope lights, even a disco ball has been hoisted up in the branches of the big tree in the far corner of the yard, throwing light as it spins.

 

The party is in full swing. Derek has led Stiles to the base of the tree to steal kisses like teenagers, kisses that are quickly turning hot and heavy. Derek’s about to try to convince Stiles to sneak up to his childhood bedroom when Stiles gets a series of text messages rapid fire, the buzz of the phone dizzying against Derek’s growing erection.

 

“Fuck, hold on, hold on,” Stiles pulls back and fishes his phone out of the tight pocket of his American flag-patterned chubbies. He looks at the phone for a long moment before his eyes find Derek’s, boring into him with intensity.

 

“If I asked you to stay here for five minutes while I handle something, would you?” Stiles asks.

 

“That depends on what that something is,” Derek hedges.

 

“Lydia says there’s an unwelcome party guest in the kitchen, I’ll be right back.” Stiles kisses Derek briefly on the mouth. “Five minutes and I’ll be right back, I promise.”

 

Derek waits by the tree for a minute – he counted to sixty Mississippi, okay? – before pulling out his phone to text Cora.

 

_What’s going on?_ He asks, knowing his sister will be wherever her girlfriend is.

 

He’s debating going to check on things in the house anyway, regardless of Stiles’ request when Cora’s answering text makes up his mind for him.

 

_Jordan’s here._

 

Derek’s breath comes in shorter and shorter as he makes a bee-line for the porch. He’s almost to the screen door before he picks up on the conversation inside.

 

“-weren’t invited, Parrish,” Stiles is saying, and Derek can tell by the tone he’s using – the one normally reserved for his freelance clients when they don’t want to pay him the full value of his work – that he’s not happy.

 

“Yeah,” Jordan’s voice is too relaxed, “I must have missed the memo.”

 

“Why are you here, Jordan?” Lydia also has a no-nonsense tone in her voice. She’s wary.

 

“Aww come on, Lyds—“ Jordan begins before Cora cuts him off.

 

“You need to take a step back,” she informs him.

 

“Really, Cora? Haven’t seen me in the better part of a year and this is the warm welcome I get?”

 

“If I recall correctly, _Deputy_ ,” Cora sneers his title, “that’s because you left my brother in the wind right before my girlfriend dumped your ass for being a fucking cheater!”

 

“Girlfriend, eh?” Jordan leers. Derek, who had frozen just out of sight on the porch when he first heard his ex speak thawed out immediately, his hand pulling the screen door open as he assessed the situation.

 

Jordan was in the opening that led from the living room to the kitchen, facing Stiles, Lydia, and Cora, all of whom had made a loose human wall between him and the door to the yard. Jordan’s eyes widened marginally when he saw Derek enter before the cocky smirk Derek remembered too well curled up his mouth.

 

“Well aren’t _you_ a sight for sore eyes?” he crows.

 

Lydia throws a frantic look over her shoulder at him, then Stiles. Stiles is, for once, at a loss for words momentarily before he regains his composure and takes a step towards his boyfriend. He puts a hand on Derek’s bicep as he approaches, both to comfort and to claim.

 

“I thought you were going to stay outside?” he asks Derek quietly.

 

“No, you asked if I would and I said ‘that depends,’” Derek reminds him. “You didn’t think telling me my ex was gate crashing was worth my knowing?”

 

“I was hoping he’d be gone before you noticed,” Stiles admits.

 

“Oh this is _great_!” Jordan crows. “I knew you’d shacked up with some rebound right after we split but I had no clue it was the Sheriff’s kid! How are you enjoying our apartment, Stiles?”

 

Derek turns to Jordan, glowering. “It hasn’t been ‘ _our apartment_ ’ since you packed up and left,” he growls.

 

“Enjoying that bed we bought together?” Jordan continues, looking at Stiles as if Derek never spoke at all. “It’s comfy, right? Just the right amount of give and doesn’t squeak at all when you’re—“

 

“That’s _enough_ , Jordan,” Derek’s voice is low, demanding.

 

“My, my, you’ve grown a smart mouth. Stiles, has he shown you all the things he can do with that mouth?” Jordan smirks. He takes a step forward to reach for one of the beers on ice in the sink, but Cora steps in front of him.

 

“I think you should leave, Jordan,” she tells him.

 

“I’d hate to have to call the Sheriff on you,” Stiles says it like he wouldn’t really hate it at all. “He’s having too good a time tonight for you to ruin it.”

 

“Alright, alright,” Jordan concedes, stepping back to his original place in the archway.

 

“Stiles, I was just about to make the announce- Parrish, what are you doing here?” the Sheriff derails his train of thought to question his deputy as he steps into the kitchen.

 

“I heard some of the other deputies talking about this shindig on my last shift and thought I’d swing by to check it out,” Jordan tells him easily. “I figured my invitation must have been lost in the mail.”

 

“Or that you were never invited because you’re a dick,” Stiles retorts.

 

“Oh, I’m sure Derek and Lydia both could tell you _all_ about my dick,” Jordan replies, his eyes crackling with mirth.

 

“Deputy, I think you better leave before I have to charge you with trespassing,” John is using his full, authoritative Sheriff’s voice.

 

“The sign on the door said ‘come on in,’” Jordan tells the Sheriff.

 

“And now you’ve been asked to leave at least once,” the Sheriff reminds him.

 

“Four times, now,” Stiles informs his father without taking his eyes off of Jordan.

 

“Well then you should certainly be on your way,” the Sheriff affirms.

 

“Fine, fine, I’ll head out,” Jordan relents, taking another step back towards the front door. “Derek, you still know my number if you want to _reconnect_.” Parrish winks at Derek before he turns to leave.

 

“Kids,” the Sheriff clears his throat after checking to make sure that his deputy did leave, “that was sufficiently tense and unpleasant. If you don’t mind, head on back out to the yard with me, I’ve got a toast I need to give and I’m sure you’ll all need a drink.”

 

As they move out onto the porch and back into the party atmosphere, the group’s tense posture relaxes a bit. The party is still in full swing and the good mood is infectious.

 

“If I could have everyone’s attention, please,” John’s voice booms out over the yard as he turns the music down. Conversations die down as the assembled crowd turns to the porch.

 

“I’d like to make a toast,” he begins. “Holidays are a time of remembrance, a chance to remind ourselves to be grateful for the good in our lives.”

 

He looks pointedly at Stiles and Derek, then out to Melissa where she’s standing beside Scott and Allison.

 

“All of you are here tonight because you are family. Stiles and I have worked hard to build this network of friends that we love as our own, so I wanted to take this time to share some exciting news: My son has accepted a position as a graphic designer with Beacon Media Group! Congratulations, Stiles!”

 

The crowd cheers and raises their glasses to Stiles, who has begun to blush furiously under the attention. Derek stands beside his boyfriend, lips parted in shock for a moment before he moves to kiss Stiles on the cheek.

 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Derek asks his as he pulls back slightly.

 

“I only found out after we arrived earlier,” Stiles whispers. “I was going to tell you under the tree before I got pulled away. It was our first moment alone together since we got here.”

 

“I’m so proud of you,” Derek beams, kissing Stiles cheek and jaw and temple affectionately.

 

“How proud are you?” Stiles breathes, pupils dilating rapidly.

 

Derek kisses him soundly on the mouth before he takes his hand, pulling him back into the house and up the stairs. “Let me show you.”

 

They make it into Stiles’ childhood bedroom turned guest room by memory more than anything else. Stiles pushes Derek up the stairs before Derek pushes him just roughly enough against the hallway wall, sucking kisses behind his jaw, tonguing at his ear lobe, breathing hot and heavy against him.

 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Stiles groans as he fumbles for the doorknob he knows is slightly to his right.

 

“I’m so fucking proud of you,” Derek praises as Stiles leads him into the room. Derek kicks the door shut behind them, reaching for Stiles’ pants to unbutton them with practiced ease. He laughs, “These shorts are ridiculous.”

 

“And you love them on me,” Stiles murmurs against Derek’s lips.

 

“I think I’d love them better on the floor,” Derek growls playfully.

 

“Der- Derek,” Stiles pulls back slightly, stalling their undressing. “We should talk-  about earlier.”

 

“What about it?” Derek asks warily.

 

“It was the first time you’ve seen him since the break up, right?” Stiles asks.

 

“Yeah, but I don’t see what that’s got to do with anything.”

 

“I just want to make sure you’re alright, that we’re not doing this so you can forget about all of the memories seeing him may have dragged back to the surface.”

 

“Stiles,” Derek looks at him earnestly. “I realize we haven’t talked about it much after that first night.”

 

“Try at all,” Stiles mumbles.

 

“But it was so new then,” Derek continues, “you and me. I was working through some abandonment stuff before we got together and then you were so perfect and sweet, and kind and loving. I was over him by the time I was making you pancakes for brunch.”

 

“So I’m not just a rebound you couldn’t shake?” Stiles asks quietly.

 

“No,” Derek’s thumb slides under Stiles’ chin, forcing it up so he could look him in the eyes. “Stiles Stilinski, you are funny and smart and sweet but sometimes you can be so dumb. I _love_ you, silly. I love your silly laugh and your novelty boxer collection and your hands and your mouth and—“

 

“Okay, I get it, I get it,” Stiles laughs, pulling him in for another kiss. This time, Derek’s the one who pulls back.

 

“No, you need to hear this: My relationship with Jordan was the complete opposite of our relationship. Jordan was controlling and manipulative. He didn’t care what I wanted unless it was what he wanted, too, and honestly I think he used me and my family’s wealth for a free place to stay and regular blowjobs.”

 

“I don’t think there’s anything regular about your blowjobs,” Stiles smiles. “They’re sitting on the ‘spectacular’ side of the scale.”

 

“You know what I mean, Ass,” Derek chuckles, but the tension hasn’t left the moment. “What I’m trying to say is that you are so much better for me than he ever was on his best days. Like, not even in the same league. You make me want to be a better person and you lift me up instead of dragging me down.”

 

“You make me want to be a better person, too,” Stiles breathes. “I redid my portfolio based on what you like the most out of it and I think that’s what got me the job.”

 

“I told you I was proud of you, right?” Derek mouths at the corner of Stiles’ lips, peppering him with kisses to accentuate his words. “Because I’m,” kiss, “so,” kiss, “fucking proud of you.”

 

He pulls Stiles’ black v-neck shirt over his head quickly before he starts kissing down to his chest, hands working at the button of his shorts as he pushes Stiles against the bed until he’s forced to sit. Derek drops to his knees and pulls Stiles’ shorts down to his ankles, gasping when he realizes that his boyfriend is missing his underpants.

 

“You’ve been hiding this from me all night?” Derek accuses.

 

“It’s sort of a known problem with Chubbies that you can’t wear anything under them,” Stiles snarks, his voice heavy and wanton.

 

Derek nuzzles his nose into the base of Stiles cock where coarse hair has been groomed into order, mouthing at the base and pumping a few times to bring Stiles into rigid hardness. He hums at the base as he feels Stiles’ cock fill and pulls back without warning only to sink his mouth down on his lover’s cock to the hilt, breathing through his nose as he feels the head tickle the back of his throat.

 

“Derek, _fuck_ ,” Stiles moans when he begins to move his tongue in flat rolling waves on the underside of his cock.

 

Derek pulls off, replacing his mouth with his hand and pumping a steady beat down Stiles’ length. “I’m so fucking proud of you,” he reminds Stiles, his voice gritty as he looks up at him, before he ducks back down to reclaim his cock in his mouth.

 

Stiles places an affectionate hand on Derek’s hair, carding his fingers through the thick strands. Derek moans around him, the vibrations doing nothing to help Stiles’ resolve to hold out for as long as possible. Stiles tugs against his scalp just a little, just enough, the way he knows Derek likes and the moan intensifies. Derek slurps and sucks, bobbing his head and pumping the rest of Stiles’ length with his hand. His other hand is rubbing warm circles into Stiles’ thigh, reaching further upward as he continues his ministrations on Stiles’ cock until he’s fondling his balls, where he collects some saliva that has dripped down from his ever-working mouth, then further still, until he’s circling Stiles’ rim with one slick finger. He pushes in, crooking the digit back to find Stiles’ prostate as he continues to pump and suck and Stiles’ hips can’t help but make short, shallow thrusts as Derek works him.

 

“Fuck Der- I’m gonna—“ Stiles orgasm flares up faster than he’d thought and he spills into Derek’s mouth, who swallows some before he pulls off and milks him the rest of the way through his orgasm, come hitting his beautifully sharp cheekbones.

 

Derek withdraws his finger as Stiles softens and stands to walk over to the door, checking the hall for a second before he rushes into the hallway, coming back a second later with a warm, wet washcloth. He wipes his face off and folds it over, handing the cloth to Stiles to clean off with.

 

“Come on,” Derek says a few minutes later after Stiles has tucked himself back into his shorts and relocated his abandoned shirt. He holds his hand out for Stiles to take.

 

“What about you?” Stiles asks. Derek hasn’t gotten off yet, thought he knows he has to be aching by now.

 

“Let’s worry about me later,” Derek suggests. “The fireworks are about to start.”

 

“I’ll show you fireworks,” Stiles mumbles against Derek’s shoulder as he follows him out into the hallways and back down the stairs to rejoin the party. “I’m going to fuck you so hard when we get home, you’ll see them behind your eyelids.”

 

“I’ll be looking forward to it,” Derek smiles back at him.

 

“And tomorrow, I want to go out and buy another bed with the signing bonus I’m getting,” Stiles tells him. “I don’t care if it’s the exact same bed, I just want to know that it’s _ours_.”

 

Derek agrees as they try to slip back into the mass of friends and family seamlessly, almost managing to before they notice the smirk Laura is giving them.

 

_It’s her weird superpower_ , Derek had explained to Stiles once. _She always knows when someone’s just had awesome sex._

_Could be worse,_ Stiles had responded, _she could have cooked spaghetti shoot out of her fingers or something instead._

 

Derek settles into an Adirondack chair facing out into the field beyond the yard; Stiles climbs on his lap as Derek’s arms curl around him.

 

“I love you,” Derek’s beard is scruffy against his shoulder as he whispers just loud enough for Stiles to hear.

 

“I love you too, sugar lips,” Stiles smiles.

 

The fireworks begin to erupt soon after, lighting up the sky. They cuddle together in spite of the warmth of the summer night, surrounded by laughter and joy, in their own little bubble of _them_. Derek thinks, _I just might._


End file.
